


Vanilla

by Captain Wednesday (speakeze)



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F, I'm Sorry, Vamp!Laura, also this isn't smut, angsty, idk what this even is, just pure angst, laura has a secret bite kink i guess, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakeze/pseuds/Captain%20Wednesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m sorry, Laura. This wasn't supposed to happen, ever. You probably remember very little of last night because that’s how the venom works. Please read this letter and please don't hate me. I'm so sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

If you’re reading this, that means that my venom got to you in time and you’re alive in your new life as a vampire.

I’m sorry, Laura. This wasn’t supposed to happen, ever. You probably remember very little of last night because that’s how the venom works, it erases things. Please read this and please don't hate me. I'm so sorry.

It was our anniversary. We made it a year. Go us. We had sex. But it wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t “making love” or anything like that either because we’re already in love and we don’t need to make any more of it through nakedness and orgasm, but it was perfect and you’re perfect and everything was so great and then I fucked it up entirely.

I didn’t realize they had come out, the fangs I mean, but it happens sometimes. And so when I went to kiss your neck I bit you, and _god_ you tasted good.

You tasted like vanilla, Laura, _vanilla_. You aren’t supposed to taste like fucking sugar cookies. You’re supposed to taste like gore and fear and adrenaline and _blood_ , goddammit, _blood_. You aren’t supposed to taste like that. You’re supposed to be scared and you’re supposed to fight. Why didn’t you fucking fight?

The way your eyes fluttered shut wasn’t supposed to be peaceful. The way your pulse thumped and the way you tapped your heartbeat on the bed with your fingertips while I was literally _killing_ you just wasn’t supposed to be that damn _normal_. It felt normal. It shouldn’t have felt fucking normal, Laura, it shouldn’t have felt that natural.

And I’m not supposed to _feel_ things when I eat people, goddammit. With everyone else it was never like this, it was always cold and unfeeling and _god,_ why did you have to be special?

I swear to god you may have even moaned, or maybe that was me, I don’t even know. Everything got sluggish and blurry. I know you pressed me in closer to you and I know that your legs were wrapped around me and I know that after a while you just sort of seized and then you weren’t breathing and I couldn’t find your pulse.

I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t mean to _hurt_ you. I was just trying to kiss you and at first it was an accident but then it wasn’t and I knew what I was doing and I kept going and then you went limp and now you’re on the bed and you’re dead and _this is not good_ , Laura.

Oh my god, I killed you. You weren’t supposed to trust me like that, I told you not to trust me like that, _why_ did you trust me to not kill you? I’m not the fucking hero here.

And you were into it, or at least resigned to it, and that’s fucking _weird_ , sweetheart.

You weren’t supposed to like it. There’s always a fight with the others. There’s always nails that scratch against my shoulder blades and there’s always crying and almost always screaming. There’s never complacency. The heartrate always accelerates to sharp and fast staccato beats but yours didn’t even do that, it just slowly sloped up in a crescendo. You didn’t even wince, just clenched your jaw a little bit and angled your face upward. You _wanted_ this. Maybe you planned this.

And _I_ liked it, too, that’s the worst part.

I know that when you wake up, you’ll be scared. Horrified. Angry. There’s some blood on your desk. I’ll be on top of the observatory (because you always did love the stars) until sunrise. If you don’t come to me, I’ll leave for some remote village in Russia or something and never bother you again, I swear it.

I’m sorry, Laura.

I never wanted this life for you, it’s horrible and gruesome and living forever is a torture I would never want to inflict on anyone.

I wish I could be here when you wake up.

But I can’t. I can’t live with that. I’m sorry.

I can’t.

Christ, Laura, you tasted like _vanilla_.


	2. Chapter 2

Laura wakes up with the intense sensation of pitching forward.

She first registers two things. Number one, she is very much dead- no heartbeat, skin is cold, the works. Number two, she is somehow not _completely_ dead and therefore she is probably undead, that is to say, a vampire.  Her tongue flicks over what must be fangs-they’re sharp, that’s for sure.

She next realizes that she can’t remember anything, but that she doesn’t really care. She has a feeling that the way that she went was a good one. She feels kind of warm and tingly.

She looks down to give herself an once-over and discovers that she did indeed die happy, because she’s completely naked. Thank god no one decided to visit her in her death.

After dressing, she notices the glass of blood on the desk, and simultaneously finds that she possesses a surprising amount of self-control around blood. There’s no _blood_ thirst, just thirst. She doesn’t feel a strong pull to the humans down the hall (whose hearts and blood she can hear, even from this distance) but she does notice them, and while she does very much want to pay them a visit, it’s not a hurried thing. Everything feels extremely lazy, and the human need to do things _right now_ was suddenly gone.

She decides to sip at the blood and it tastes sort of how Carmilla smells, which she really shouldn’t be surprised by, but it’s kind of surprising nonetheless. It’s sweet and extremely appealing. Less metallic than it tasted when she was a human.

After a few more sips, she realizes that the taste seems weird. Sort of like…too sterile? It makes sense, the blood _did_ come from the campus hospital. She imagines that drinking straight from the source might be a little more satisfying.

She waits for that fabled burn in her throat, but no such thing happens. It’s more of a low need, like the basic hunger one experiences or a slight headache.

It’s then that Laura realizes the lack of Carmilla. She isn’t showering, Laura knows that, and to be honest she thinks she would be able to smell her if she was in the dorm.

After a few glances around the apartment, Laura notices the open laptop.

There’s a saved Word document and it seems important, so she finishes the glass of blood and begins reading.

///

It’s after reading this letter that she begins to freak out.

She’s not exactly sure what to do at this point. She assesses the damage- nothing is amiss in the dorm. If she left right now it’d take a few days before anyone thought anything of it. No evidence of foul play or a struggle.

This notion concerns her. The idea that there _wasn’t_ a struggle, that she hadn’t fought, was disturbing in a sense. Carmilla killed her, that’s for certain. But maybe she had wanted Carmilla to kill her. The letter had said she didn’t try to get up or fight back, even, just that she had sort of embraced death.

And now she’s dead, and oh god she’s going to have to fake her death, and what about her friends, what about her dad? Oh god, her dad. _Her dad_.

Laura feels the sudden need to puke.

She needs Carm. She’s angry and scared and so confused, and _why the fuck did you think running was an adequate solution to your mess you stupid vampire_? _What the fuck did you mean, you can’t stay for me_?

Observatory. The letter said observatory.

She glances out her window and starts to see streaks of pink and blue in the sky, vibrant against the clouds.

She concentrates. Observatory. Observatory.

It seems natural, although the act of teleportation via black smoke is probably the farthest removed from natural you can get. It’s like dissolving, but not completely- more like vaporizing.

She stumbles to catch herself against the curved metal, finding traction on a few rivets. Her wrist slides against a particularly rusty piece of sheet metal and she lets out a gasp of pain. A few drops of blood land on her sneaker.

The graffiti that previously occupied the top of the observatory has faded. There are a few warnings from the Alchemy Club about some moss-fungi hybrid experiment. The forest surrounds her and she hears the last of the nocturnal students scurrying back to their dorms.

The sky begins to color in deep hues of orange and pink, the traces of purple and blue leaving almost too quickly. Laura shakily stands on the metal, noticing that the cut on her wrist has already healed.

Carmilla’s not there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry about the wait. I'll try to do more regular updates, I've just had kinda a messy life the past few days. I hope you like this chapter and that you'll forgive me for the length.


End file.
